


shine the kitchen floor

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Depends on how you look at it, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mild humiliation possibly?, PWP, Praise Kink, Super Subby Spock, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9129277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: anonymous on tumblr prompted "spock with a praise kink that mccoy exploits at literally every possible opportunity"





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was fun to write, really pleased with how this came out. hope you like it! 
> 
> title derived from this quote: _“No woman gets an orgasm from shining the kitchen floor."_ ―Betty Friedan. Seemed fitting because a) praise kink, and b) spock would. he _would_ , listen. 
> 
> ... anywho.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he coos. He strokes the sides of Spock’s face gently, tendering, traces where Spock’s pretty pink lips are stretched around his cock. “You look so good like this,” he murmurs. He pulls, gently, pulls Spock onto his cock and revels in the feeling of his lover swallowing around his girth. “Take it so good, baby, like you were made for this.” He repeats the motion; he slides one hand into Spock’s hair and grips tight, uses it as leverage to fuck Spock’s mouth.

Whimpers sound, muffled by his dick. McCoy shivers at the vibrations that strike him right to his core. He groans and only moves faster. Spock’s tongue is wet and plump against the underside of his prick, unmoving but no less sensual. Spock sits, so obediently, on his knees between McCoy’s legs. His lips are curled expertly to cover his teeth, nary a scrape against his lover’s delicate skin with each thrust. He accepts the weight, the length with ease; his body sinks deeper and deeper into soft, lustful relaxation each time McCoy hisses another bout of praise.

“Oh, Spock, I could do this all day. Watch you suckin’ me is about the best damn sight I’ve ever seen.” McCoy slows his thrusts and his touch on Spock’s face turns gentle again. “So good for me, ain’t ya? You love it.”

Spock moans again and his eyes flutter shut.

 

“That’s real nice, Spock, lookin’ good.” McCoy looms over Spock’s shoulder to get a glimpse at the project his lover is hunched over.

Spock’s hands halt in their precise movements and his whole body starts to burn.

“You’re just damn talented, Spock, sometimes I forget.” McCoy laughs, seemingly oblivious to the way his words ignite heat in the Vulcan. “Which is absurd, since you’re talented in _everything_.” And, oh, McCoy _definitely_ knows what he’s doing to Spock.

Oddly enough, he can’t find it in himself to be angry. Instead, he’s only desperately turned on. “Leonard,” he breathes as he rises from his seat. He doesn’t turn around, though, as the bulge in his pants is prominent enough to be shameful. He only looks over his shoulder to his lover instead.

“Hm?” McCoy feigns innocence, even bats his eyelashes at Spock. “Something wrong, darlin’?”

Spock grits his teeth and tries to breathe through his arousal. “Not at all.”

 

“You’re so good, babe, such a sweet, tight fuck, hm?” McCoy’s hands grip the flesh of Spock’s ass, pinching at the skin and turning the green darker. He thrusts up into Spock at the same time Spock grinds down, but his voice never wavers. “You were made for my cock, my good boy, hm?”

Fire burns at the base of Spock’s spine and he gasps. “Leonard.” His nails bite into the bare skin of his lover’s shoulders. Spock looms over Leonard and pants, gasps, moans against Leonard’s lips.

“That’s in, darlin’, take it,” he murmurs as he thrusts up again. “Could fuck you all day, wish I could. Next shore leave oughta spend the whole time keepin’ you nice, n’wet, n’open, fucking you whenever I feel like.”

Spock shudders and throws his head back, cock twitching as his come splatters onto Leonard’s chest.

 

“Good shot, Spock.”

The Vulcan bristles unhappily—not at Leonard, necessarily, not even particularly at his words. No, Spock is angry with his own, ridiculous reaction. Three simple words should _not_ put such a strain on his control, not over his arousal or his desire to preen like a well-groomed peacock. He shouldn’t feel a rush of heat and lust every single time the word _‘good’_ comes out of his lover’s mouth.

And yet.

_And yet_.

“Spock, are you hurt?”

Just like that, Leonard’s easy-going appreciation of Spock’s aim with a phaser is gone; instead, he slips into doctor-mode, fussing over Spock. His hands run across Spock’s body—checking for fever, wounds, blood, soreness, anything—and Spock’s skin crawls with the friction.

He makes a minor, admittedly pathetic attempt at shrugging out of Leonard’s grip. Of course, this only causes Leonard to search him over more thoroughly. “I am not hurt, Leonard,” Spock says quietly. Only then do the doctor’s roaming hands cease. “I am just… Preoccupied.”

Leonard eyes him suspiciously.

Spock turns away and gestures for Leonard to follow. “We should keep moving.”

 

“So nice of ya to get yourself all ready for me, Spock,” Leonard purrs as he lines up his cock with Spock’s wet, well-stretched hole.

Spock moans softly as he’s breached; he arches his back to take his lover’s cock deeper, spreads his legs and buries his face in his hands as pleasure overtakes him. “You had mentioned you would like me ready and waiting for you, I endeavor to please.” He shivers as Leonard covers his back, lips peppering kissing along his neck and shoulders. The bed rocks with Leonard’s thrusts, and Spock sinks into the delectable rhythm, nearly losing himself to a hazy half-sleep in the process.

“I am very pleased, love it when you surprise me like this.” Leonard grips Spock’s hips and thrusts harder, faster, lingering as he thrusts in as deep in possible. “Such a sweetheart, ain’t ya? All for me, all mine to take,” a thrust, “and take,” another, “and _take_.” Leonard bites briefly on the ball of Spock’s shoulder, sucks a hickey into the skin and marvels at the dark green flush. “God, what did I ever do to deserve a perfect little thing like you?” The words, hot with Leonard’s lust, stick to Spock’s skin.

Spock keens. He wants to reach back and grab at Leonard’s body, too. He wants to speak, wants to ignite that fire in Leonard’s veins. He can’t, though. His tongue is tied up and his throat is closed tight and all he wants is to hear Leonard’s praise.

“Love your greedy little hole, Spock, n’you love my cock, don’t ya?” Leonard hisses in Spock’s ear. “My perfect little slut, hm?”

Spock turns his head and breathes out shakily, “ _yes_.”


End file.
